


The Static and the Sparkle

by exklusiv



Category: Cats - Andrew Lloyd Webber, Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats - T. S. Eliot
Genre: Age Difference, Family Drama, M/M, Rating May Change, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-14 16:27:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29670018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/exklusiv/pseuds/exklusiv
Summary: A fearful cat has run to the Jellicles in search of himself, a guardian is burdened by expectations, and maybe, together, they'll make their own little niche.Or:The Rum Tum Tugger only likes what he finds for himself.
Relationships: Mr. Mistoffelees/Rum Tum Tugger (Cats)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 34





	1. Pt I

**Author's Note:**

> Hello yes I am finally admitting that I am a furry and I am now presenting this to you all: my very first offering of fiction for Cats. Hi.  
> A few things to note:  
> 1\. I enjoy the headcanon of Misto being on the autism spectrum, but feel I am unqualified to write him as such, so I've included a few of the quirks without committing to it 100% so I don't do it wrong and hurt someone's feelings.  
> 2\. There is an age gap here but I want to make it very clear that Misto is an adult.  
> 3\. There's a few secondary pairings I'm not tagging in the main tags in order to not gum up the works, but I'll add them into the notes of each chapter they appear in.  
> 4\. This is gonna burn low and slow, guys. I want you to be prepared for that.  
> 5\. There are so many Jellicle cats. Oh my God. I'm using the names from the 98 film, as well as a few of the variations from Broadway, but I'm not going to tag all of them because, again, not gumming up the works. I've tagged the main ones.

It was raining.

No, not raining. It was drizzling; the kind of rain that just made a cat look damp instead of soggy. Not entirely unpleasant, but not ideal. The sky had been gray all day, and The Rum Tum Tugger had been happy to spend his day inside, stretched on the back of his human’s sofa, delighting in the warmth from the fireplace, and occasionally tapping his human with his tail just when she was getting comfortable with her needlepoint. But when the sky went black as the sun retreated beyond the horizon, something came over him. He let the niggling feeling linger in the back of his mind for a while, trying to cozy into the cushions and let it go, but he could not ignore it for long.

Rum Tum Tugger leapt from the sofa, trotted to the back door in the kitchen, and began to yowl until his human, cursing him in her fond-but-exasperated tone, opened the door and watched him streak outside, imploring him that if he wanted to be outside in the rain that badly, then he could just stay out all night.

That suited him just fine. She never meant it, anyway, if he really changed his mind and wanted back in. Yowling always did the trick.

Tugger hurried down the street, the yellow streetlights lit with a halo from the not-rain that was starting to tamp down the tips of his fur, toward the junkyard where he and his fellow Jellicles spent some of their free time. Their last Jellicle Ball had been a few weeks earlier, and he hadn’t been back since, but he didn’t think he had missed much. Besides, Munkustrap could and did take care of anything that arose, so why bother? It wasn’t as if they particularly needed (or, honestly, even wanted) him around.

Tonight, however, the something that was setting his fur on edge was coming from the junkyard. That feeling had no explanation, but he followed it anyway, unsure of what he would find. The feeling, twirling in his mind like a pollicle chasing its tail, made him jump up onto the garbage cans outside the gate and hop over the fence; he began to prowl through the yard, looking for anything that might have been out of place.

The rain chilled him enough that he shook himself out, the brassy tag on his studded collar jingling as he tried to rid himself of the layer of damp and fluff himself up, and when he stopped shaking, he heard something clatter to his left. Narrowing his eyes and creeping toward the noise, Tugger sniffed the air, searching for a hint of anything amiss. After turning the corner on a stack of tires, there was another clatter and then a chuckle; Tugger breathed in deeply and got the unmistakable scent of fear. Furrowing his brow and stepping forward, Tugger felt his tail go bottlebrush and the fur on his spine raise. Near a haphazardly balanced stack of wooden crates stood Macavity, sneering into the bottommost crate, where a young tom, barely even old enough to be considered such, cowered, pressed into the corner.

“Here, kitty, kitty,” Macavity called in a low voice, grinning maliciously. “Come along.”

Whatever Macavity had planned for this cat didn’t matter; this was where the Jellicles gathered, and Macavity was not allowed, even when the criminality was aimed at a cat that was not a Jellicle.

Tugger crept up behind Macavity, unsheathed his claws, and grabbed the mystery cat by the scruff; Macavity yowled in anger as Tugger pulled him away from the crates and threw him against a garbage can. Tugger heard a whimper from the tomcat as the garbage can made a metallic din; Tugger ignored him in order to glower down at Macavity, the ginger cat’s fur turning almost brown in the rain.

Macavity’s mouth twisted into an ironic grin. “If it isn’t The Rum Tum Tugger. How are you, baby brother?”

“You don’t deserve the familiarity,” Tugger replied through his teeth. “I ought to tear the smile off your face.”

“A bit of an overreaction for something innocent, isn’t it?” Macavity teased, the tip of his tail twitching as he threw a glance around Tugger’s shoulder.

A low growl rumbled in the base of Tugger’s throat. “You wouldn’t know innocent if it swung you by your tail. Leave, Macavity, now, before I call Munkustrap.”

Macavity’s eyes narrowed, and Tugger knew he was calculating the odds. Despite the fact that Macavity did not know his brothers in their adulthood, Tugger knew Macavity could likely take him alone, and a fight between Macavity and Munkustrap would come down to skin and teeth, but his brothers together would turn the tide and make easy work of the criminal cat. And even though Munkustrap was nowhere nearby, Macavity knew not to take the risk. Everyone knew that both Rum Tum Tugger and Munkustrap seemed to just know when one needed the other and would appear out of nowhere in assistance. This was apparently not a chance he was willing to take; with a quick, dismissive flick of a puffed-up tail, Macavity leapt onto the top of the can and made to leave the junkyard. Before hopping the fence and departing, Macavity looked over his shoulder. 

“Watch yourself, Rum Tum Tugger.”

Tugger spat out a hiss and made sure Macavity was gone before carefully walking back to the cat in the crate. The tomcat still radiated fear, so Tugger bent down and slowly held out his paw.

“You must be so frightened. You’re safe now. Jellicle promise.”

It seemed to take forever, but slowly, the cat scooted out of the crate with a kind of ethereal grace, his ears pulled back against his head. Tugger gave him a once-over; the cat was a short-haired Tuxedo, one paw white to the elbow, the other one black. He had one bright yellow eye and one blue, and the rest of him was black save for his face down to the bottom of his chest. In the low light of the junkyard, the rain on his fur made him look like he glittered.

The cat took Tugger’s paw and allowed himself to be pulled up. Even for his age, he was small. His paw fit almost entirely in Tugger’s. Though, Tugger supposed, he wasn’t the best judge of size: he himself was a fairly large cat. He could still remember the look on Munkustrap’s face the first time Tugger had returned to the junkyard and needed to look down to meet Munkustrap’s gaze. His smirk probably hadn’t helped the expression but, still, watching his older brother try to retain his composure in the face of insulted pride was a treasured memory.

“There we are. You’re safe now,” Tugger repeated. “How’d you find yourself out here, kitten?”

Nothing. No response. Just pulled back ears and shivering.

Tugger tilted his head. “Cat got your tongue?”

The cat gave Tugger a startled look that made the Jellicle chuckle. “Come on, Kitten. Let’s get you out of the rain.”

Tugger led the Tom through the winding passages of the junkyard, passing hidey-holes of dens, some empty, some filling the air with scents of family, love, mischief, and everything else all the various Jellicles got up to. The opening to the little den he’d made for himself was narrow and twisting; the little tom had no issue squeezing in, in contrast to Tugger, who had to gently contort himself to get through.

The den was lit by a trio of glass bottles he’d carefully stuck into the ceiling, catching the light from a lamplight above, much too dim for a human, but perfect for a cat. Tugger gave himself a good shake to rid himself of the water in his coat, then stretched languidly onto the collection of fabric scraps, pillows, and blankets he’d collected, recovering the items with his scent, which had dissipated since he’d last been inside.

The tom stood awkwardly, looking into the den with apprehension. His tail twitched and he looked like he was trying to hold his breath. Tugger lounged on a particularly well-stuffed pillow and sighed.

“Caught up with Macavity. You’re lucky I got there when I did. Everlasting only knows what he wanted with you. Probably wanted to cause some kind of ruckus. Maybe make you a minion, like those troublemakers Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer.” He huffed. “I guess that’s not very fair, though, word is they’re much more interested in their own hi-jinx instead of his anymore. What a wretched cat. As well—”

Tugger caught sight of the tom still standing stiffly. With a gesture, Tugger spoke. “Don’t just stand there. Get cozy. Get your nerves sorted.”

Gingerly, the tom selected a pile of threadbare flannel and sat down. The glow of his dual-colored eyes in the dark pulled up the corners of Tugger’s mouth.

“You are something else, Kitten. Stumbled into our little world and already in trouble. How did you manage that?”

The tom took his eyes away from the tip of Tugger’s tail, which had been lazily flicking back and forth. Almost tentatively, his ears perked up from where they had stayed flat on his head. Tugger smiled at the little tufts of white that lined the inside of them.

“Really not the talkative type, are we? A bit shy?” Tugger said, watching as the tom scratched nervously behind one of his ears. “You’ve no need to fear here, Kitten. I meant it when I said you’re safe.”

No answer came, not that he really was expecting one at this point in the conversation. Twisting himself so he was a little closer to the tom, Tugger rolled onto his back and grinned. “Perhaps an introduction to calm the shivers? I am The Rum Tum Tugger.”

The tom tilted his head, looked at Tugger, and then tapped his paw against the base of his throat. Tugger raised an eyebrow before raising his own paw to touch the tag on his collar. He grinned. “Is this your way of telling me my tag is wrong?”

A gentle shrug. Tugger rolled back onto his stomach and propped his chin up with his paw. “Have you had no interactions with any other cats, Kitten? Do you not have your own name yet?”

The look of confusion spread across the tom’s white cheeks was almost enough to make Tugger start laughing. “Luck has brought you to a fine place, then, for an introductory lesson into the world of the Jellicle cats. Though I doubt I’m the one who should be giving it. It might do you better for this to come from Munkustrap.”

Tugger licked the back of his paw and began working on a spot near his ear that still felt wrong from the rain. He’d made a decent amount of progress on it when a small, clear voice tumbled through the air.

“A Jellicle?”

Tugger looked at the tom so quickly that the Tom’s ears pulled back flat again, his tail stiff. Tugger chuckled. “Well, look at that. The kitten speaks after all. Let’s see here, Kitten: a Jellicle is a cat, but not all cats are Jellicles. We are something of a family. A collection of cats from all around the city that have the opportunity to fully live all our nine lives. Though, Munkustrap always was better at explaining it than I was. If you don’t even know the difference between your first and second names, I’d say we have to start at the beginning.”

The tom tilted his head. Tugger touched his brass tag again. “I am a cat that has a human. Theo is my first name, the name she uses for me. But so many cats can be named Theo, and how’s a cat to be proud of something so common? So a cat has a second name. Something he chooses for himself, that no other cat has. How else would we distinguish ourselves? I chose Rum Tum Tugger.”

“ _The_ Rum Tum Tugger.”

Tugger made as guilty of a face as he could muster. “Truthfully, it started as just Rum Tum Tugger, then ‘the’ got added to it as a bit of an epithet. My brother thinks I’m a scant bit… notorious amongst the Jellicles. I kept it going of my own accord. You know your third name?”

The tom blinked those two-toned eyes. Tugger huffed. “You do, even if you don’t think you do. It’s the name only you know, that you never speak. The name you focus on when you converse with the Everlasting.”

No response. Tugger perked up his ears, then shrugged. “Again, I’m not the one who should be telling you this. Sleep, Kitten, and in the morning I’ll make your introductions.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: Tugger's pet name being Theo is a personal joke. I have a cousin named Theodore who was nicknamed Tug when he was a kid and I couldn't not include it.


	2. Pt II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's a Jellicle tribe without its Jellicle leaders?

The sun was barely over the horizon when Tugger woke; he was much warmer than he’d expected to be in his den. Glancing down saw that, sometime during the night, the tom had made his way over and curled himself up behind Tugger’s back, his face pressed into the thick fur of his mane. But it wasn’t just that; just having another cat in his den had never made the space this toasty. Yawning widely, Tugger roused himself up, his movements startling the tom awake.

As soon as those two-toned eyes were open, the warmth in the air disappeared. Tugger looked with a bemused expression as the tom hurried away from the Jellicle cat and huddled against the wall, looking embarrassed and afraid.

“You are quite something,” Tugger teased, stretching. “Will you show me how you made it so warm in here?”

The tom blinked. “You… aren’t mad?”

“More and more words! What progress you make, Kitten.” Tugger crooked a finger in his direction and started to make his way toward the entrance to his den. “Come along, you’ve got some cats to meet.”

Tentatively, the tom followed Tugger out of the den, squinting as the bright, scattered rays of the morning sun stretched over the walls of the junkyard. Tugger made his merry way through the maze of a path, and only stumbled when something grabbed his paw and held tight. He looked back and saw the tom clutching at him, expression fearful as a few of the other Jellicles started to wake as well, some of them peering out from the dark of their dens at this new addition with their curious cat.

“Didn’t I tell you to not be afraid? Come on. You’ll like this cat.”

The tom would not relinquish his grip on Tugger’s paw, though the fear subsided from his eyes. Tugger shrugged and continued on, allowing himself to be seen with the tom, always making the spectacle of himself. And the whole time they walked, Tugger felt an unmistakable tingling in his paw, like the feeling in the air before lightning struck. It was strange, to say the least, especially because it seemed to ebb and flow, like it followed the pulse of a nervous heartbeat.

Getting to Munkustrap’s den was simple; hoping that only Munkustrap was inside was the issue. Tugger did not want to overwhelm the tom, and Demeter was one of those cats that tended to get very fussy very quickly. And Everlasting help them if Jemima caught wind of a new cat before he’d had a chance to make an introduction in a proper manner.

Blessedly, Munkustrap was just coming out from his den, as if summoned to arrive the moment Tugger did. He probably was, all things considered. Tugger couldn’t count the times he’d emerged from his den only to come face-to-face with his older brother.

“Munkustrap,” Tugger said with an exaggerated accent, tilting his head down.

With a look of fond exhaustion, Munkustrap briefly pressed his forehead affectionately against Tugger’s. “You’ve been gone a while. I see you have a stowaway.”

Tugger nodded. “That’s why I thought I’d drop by. I’ve found us a cat to teach.”

Munkustrap raised an eyebrow. “Us?”

There was a brief but tense silence as Tugger’s ears perked up. “Yes, us. I’m no good with the stories, so I thought I’d hand him off to you for the education.”

A scowl overcame the handsome face of the silver tabby. There was a brief, intense staring match between the brothers before Munkustrap turned his attention to the tom.

“What is your name?”

“He doesn’t have one.”

The look on Munkustrap’s face was another expression Tugger was going to keep in his mind for the rest of his life. “Not even a family name?”

In a mimicry of the movement the tom had done the evening before, Tugger reached up and tapped his nametag. “Not a collar on him. He’s alone.”

Munkustrap leveled a steady look at Tugger. “How did you find him?”

“He was in the junkyard.”

“How did _you_ find him?”

Tugger shrugged halfheartedly. “I just… did.”

It seemed everything around them had paused and made no noise until, finally, Munkustrap extended a paw toward the tom and spoke softly. “You could use a soft touch. My mate is in my den. She will tend to you.”

“You will be safe with her,” Tugger said, noting the quick pulse of the static feeling in his paw.

The tom glanced up at Tugger, then reached for Munkustrap. “Okay.”

Tugger waited outside while Munkustrap took the tom inside, steeling himself for the inevitable lecture that was coming. Leaned up against the empty oil drum that indicated the entrance to Munkustrap’s den, Tugger stared at and flexed the paw that had been coursing with that tingly electricity, noting that it had left its phantom feeling the moment the tomcat had let go of it. When Munkustrap finally emerged, the look on his face was not one of a cat happy to know the good deed his brother had done. In fact, Munkustrap did not even look at Tugger; he passed him by and kept walking, moving into a more open area in order to begin pacing.

Tugger grimaced. Pacing meant nothing good with Munkustrap.

“So?” the curious cat implored, sauntering over to the tabby. “How do you like our newest Jellicle?”

“He’s not a Jellicle,” Munkustrap said firmly.

Tugger scoffed. “Oh, he’s not?”

“No, he’s not, but we’re putting that aside for a moment. How did you find him?”

Tugger pulled a face and cocked out his hip with his arms crossed. “I found him in the junkyard. You know, here. Where we are.”

“You haven’t been here in days. You just happened to come in the middle of the night, in the rain, and find him?”

After a long pause, Tugger twitched his nose and frowned. “I… felt like I had to come. And it’s good that I did. He almost got snatched by Macavity.”

Munkustrap’s blue eyes went wide, his body tensing. “Macavity was here?”

Tugger placed a comforting paw on Munkustrap’s shoulder. “Relax. It’s been hours, and he was only on the outskirts. I can only assume he was chasing Kitten, but I got rid of him. There’s something… special about that little cat. I can just feel it. He’s meant to be here. He should be part of the family, a proper Jellicle.”

Munkustrap rubbed his eyes and sighed. “And here Tantomile and Coricopat are supposed to be the ones who just know when things happen. Everlasting, Tugger, we can’t just decide that he’s part of the tribe now.”

“Come on, Munks, you can start showing him the ropes and telling him the stories, he’ll pick a name for himself, and it’ll be grand!”

“We do not have the authority to invite him to the tribe. _I_ don’t have the authority to invite him to the tribe. Tugger, we don’t just welcome anyone in without scrutiny. You know as well as I do why we don’t.”

Tugger glowered for a moment before crossing his arms. “Then he can stay under guardianship. By the Everlasting, Munkustrap, he doesn’t even have a name! He has no one to look out for him! Even if we don’t teach him what we know, he still should learn how to be a cat.”

Munkustrap gestured sternly at Tugger. “Outsiders cannot just come and go as they please. There are consequences for those unwelcome.”

“Only if they’re not blood, though, I take it?”

The sarcastic comment was not meant to come across so harsh, but Tugger knew he’d overstepped the moment he’d said it. The two kittens from the first litter Munkustrap and Demeter had together had chosen to not live the life their parents lived and thus had chosen to not be Jellicles, though they came and went to visit their family as they chose. Tugger himself was especially fond of the tom, who’d somehow inherited the thick mane his uncle sported but in Munkustrap’s coloring; Demeter had once declared it “utterly impossible” to care for and had berated Tugger for it.

Tugger stepped up to Munkustrap and put his paw on his chest. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.”

Munkustrap placed his paw over Tugger’s. “Yes, you did, but you’re right. Blood is different. More importantly, _our_ blood is different. And that’s why it’s not within either of our power to invite this cat into the family. He’s too old. He’s not blood. He’s not a Jellicle.”

“Then we go and ask to invite him in.”

The look Munkustrap leveled at Tugger could have singed the fur off a lesser cat. “Just go and approach Old Deuteronomy to try and get a cat brought into the fold?”

Tugger looked around incredulously, his arms out in a gesture of sarcasm. “If we aren’t able to go before him with impunity, then what is _even_ the point of our positions within this tribe? What is the point of being his _sons_?”

“You are asking to do something beyond a friendly visit to a father, Rum Tum Tugger, and you know it. You are pushing a boundary here, the consequences of which I can’t protect you from.”

Tugger groaned and pulled on his ears in frustration. “You know, for being the protector of this family, you’re very ready to turn a frightened cat out into the street. Macavity already tried to get him once. Who’s to say he won’t do it again? Could you do that to that little tomcat in there? The cat who wouldn’t even speak for fear?”

It occurred to Tugger, as he and Munkustrap stared each other down, that they were starting to get a bit loud. Or, rather, he was. He wasn’t sure whether he was hoping that the other Jellicles would come out and support him or mind their own business. When the look in Munkustrap’s eyes would not soften, Tugger felt his tail bristle slightly. He clenched his jaw as Munkustrap squared his shoulders.

“I understand you feel some kind of need to continuously protect this cat because you might feel beholden to his survival. But there cannot be this new member simply because you want him here.”

Munkustrap turned and headed back towards his den. Tugger’s eyes followed him.

“I am a guardian and I don’t need your permission.”

Munkustrap stopped and looked over his shoulder. Tugger did not often assert his authority when it came to matters of the Jellicles; he usually did not care one way or the other. The declaration and the determination in the younger cat’s gold-green eyes seemed to spell out everything Munkustrap needed to know.

“If you go to him, you go alone. I can’t make the argument for you.”

“I know. I just need your word that you won’t toss him into the street before I return.”

“Think a little more highly of me, brother.”

“Get a little more highly than me, brother.” Tugger smirked at the continued look of exasperation Munkustrap wore. “Maybe at least introduce him to Victoria while I’m gone. I’m sure they’ll have mountains to talk about.”

Munkustrap snorted as Tugger ran towards the fence of the junkyard. The rebellious cat had a long way to go until he got to the vicarage, and he wasn’t going to waste a moment. The vicarage where Old Deuteronomy lived was almost as far away from the junkyard as it seemed it could possibly be without being in the next city, and Rum Tum Tugger had to be mindful. He was a cat that had a human, after all, and even though the city in which they lived didn’t seem to mind cats running about, some might see his collar and assume he was lost, snatching him up and alerting his human to come and fetch him. What a waste of a day it would be, so he darted through alleys and side streets, as fast as his four paws could carry him, nearly tripping a few well-dressed women and men who cursed at him as he sprinted with tail low to the ground, hoping that nobody stepped on it.

The vicarage wall came into sight, and, blessedly, even though the stone wall was still damp from the previous night’s rain, there sat Old Deuteronomy, his head focused towards the direction of the sun, his eyes closed. He was a cat in meditation, completely at peace. Rum Tum Tugger gave himself a quick shake to fluff himself and make himself look presentable before hopping onto the wall and strolling up to the great cat that was his father.

“The Rum Tum Tugger comes to me,” Old Deuteronomy said without opening his eyes. Though Tugger tried to keep composed, the dignified son of a dignified cat, he couldn’t help quickly rubbing his cheek against the old cat’s shoulder, an affectionate habit from kittenhood he’d never managed to shake. “I doubt you’re here for a social call. That’s very unlike you.”

“I’ve always done as I’ve pleased.”

“Yes, you have,” Old Deuteronomy chuckled, looking at his youngest son with kind eyes. “What brings you to me?”

Tugger inhaled. “There is a new cat I’d like to speak with you about.”

“A new cat? Have you found us a new member of the family?”

Tugger nodded. “I think he belongs with us.”

Old Deuteronomy chuckled. “And you need my permission for this?”

Tugger grumbled, his ears flat. “Munkustrap seems to think I do.”

“Don’t be so hard on your brother. He has a right to be cautious.”

“I know,” Tugger sighed, looking up at the cloud-spotted sky. “What with Macavity’s henchcats being let in and trying to muck about with the family, I know, I just…”

“You think he doesn’t trust your judgment.”

“Has he ever?”

When Old Deuteronomy said nothing, Tugger looked up at his father, who seemed to be contemplating. “Am I making a mistake? Should he join us?”

“I don’t know, Tugger. Should he? Tell me about this cat.”

Though there wasn’t much of a tale to tell, Tugger felt like he was speaking for hours about what had occurred in the very short time since he’d run to the junkyard the night before. He had been sure, running up to the vicarage, that Old Deuteronomy would be on his side, but as he spoke, he suddenly wasn’t so sure, especially since he knew exactly why Munkustrap was erring on the side of caution, even if it was annoying. Maybe, and he hated to think it, Munkustrap was right, and trying to bring in a new, unknown cat, especially one that felt like he could make lightning strike at any moment, was not the best idea.

However, when he had finished speaking, his ears pulled just the slightest bit back, he was surprised when Old Deuteronomy smiled and swished the long, fluffy tail he’d bestowed to all of his sons.

“This seems important to you, and that makes a difference. We shall open our arms to him, and he will be a Jellicle cat. And inform your brother I’ll expect him to come by for a chat, soon. I’ll need to remind him that caution and coldness do not have to go together.”

Tugger’s ears drooped. “I wish you wouldn’t.”

Old Deuteronomy looked amused. “Is that so?”

“He’ll know I’m the reason he’s getting a lecture and then _I’ll_ get a lecture.”

Old Deuteronomy laughed, a deep, hearty laugh that made Tugger feel safe. “You, my boy, are a ceaseless wonder. Go, tell Munkustrap. We have a Jellicle to welcome.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You ever write something and think it's longer than it is and realize it feels so short? Ahem.  
> Don't be so hard on Munks, Tugger, he just wants to protect the family.  
> We're getting there, I promise. Every little bit matters.  
> Let me know what you think!


	3. Pt III

Upon returning to the junkyard, Rum Tum Tugger was met with Munkustrap. No words passed between them; there was no need. Munkustrap knew, like he always knew, what was going on, and the look he greeted Rum Tum Tugger with was one of gentle bemusement.

“Your little friend is lucky he’s been accepted,” Munkustrap said, leading Rum Tum Tugger through the junkyard towards the large den Jennyanydots and Demeter had constructed for the younger cats to play and learn in. “It might have been a bit difficult to explain to the kittens if he hadn’t.”

Rum Tum Tugger raised an eyebrow as he ducked under the ragged tarp that made the covering for the niche the older kittens, the ones nearing adulthood, had carved out for themselves. The sight before him as he stood in the opening of the den pulled a chuckle out of him as he crossed his arms. He couldn’t have been gone more than two hours, and yet, in that time, the little tuxedo had been introduced and, apparently, ingratiated into the younger Jellicle cats circle. The tom was laying on his belly on the floor, his eyes trained on the tip of Tumblebrutus’ tail, which was swaying from side to side, a paw raised just barely off the ground, as if to swat at it. Etcetera sat nearby, her expression egging on the tomcat. And, though Rum Tum Tugger had mostly been joking about introducing them, laying draped across the tomcat’s back was Victoria, purring softly as she napped against his black fur.

The addition of the tuxedo was so natural he might have been there the whole time. Tugger looked fondly at the little group in front of him; he’d known every single one of these cats since they’d been born, and seeing them now as they were, cats on the cusp of adulthood, made him feel a bit of pride. The toms had turned somersaults over each other until they’d found their footing, the queens had chirped and purred until they’d found their voices, and those little roly-poly furballs that had tumbled into piles together at his feet were now handsome cats in their own right.

“Well, now,” Tugger said, looking around at the cats. “Isn’t this a pretty sight?”

Jemima perked up from where she’d been lounging and looked over at him. Her face lit up and she leapt across the room, bounding into Tugger’s arms, rubbing her cheek against his chest.

“Uncle Tugger!” she exclaimed, absolutely beaming when Tugger reached up and fondly scratched under her chin.

“Hello, Queenie,” Tugger replied, looking down at the dark tabby in his arms. “How is my favorite niece?”

Next to him, Munkustrap put his paws on his hips. “Do I play second now?”

Tugger winked at his niece before gently touching the scent near her ears and deliberately rubbing it on his jaw, giving his niece a mark of ownership over him. “Go on, Queenie, hugs all around.”

Jemima, continually beaming, stepped over and buried her face into the soft fur on Munkustrap’s chest. “Hello, Papa.”

Munkustrap fondly pet his daughter’s ears. “Hello, my sweet. You are all being kind to our new addition?”

“Oh, yes, Papa! He’s very nice.” Jemima looked over her shoulder before stage-whispering to the brothers. “But he doesn’t have a name yet.”

“Well, we’re going to have to help him pick, aren’t we?” Munkustrap looked out over the kittens and gestured. “Kittens!”

All the young cats looked up. Etcetera noticed Rum Tum Tugger standing there and immediately tried to preen herself, her expression bashful. Tugger had always enjoyed that the queen-kittens (and, honestly, the tom-kittens as well) always seemed to want his attention. He wasn’t sure whether they viewed him as something to eventually conquer or they were just enamored of the fact that he didn’t treat them like they were naive and stupid, like many of the older cats did; either way, they fawned over him. As all the cats turned their attention toward him, the tuxedo perked up, looked at Tugger, and suddenly Tugger felt the fur on his shoulders tingle with a touch of static. As the tomcat moved from his position, Victoria roused herself, yawning before seeing Tugger and smiling brightly.

The young cats all got up and made their way to Tugger and Munkustrap, giving their standard greetings of touches and rubs, some lingering a little longer on Tugger than they had on Munkustrap. The tuxedo tom ran up to Tugger and grabbed his paw, smiling widely. The same thrum from earlier reentered Tugger’s paw.

“I’m a Jellicle cat!” the tuxedo declared proudly, glancing at Victoria, who had moved to lean her head against his shoulder.

“You are a Jellicle cat, Kitten,” Tugger agreed, looking at the gaggle of elder kittens all looking up at him and Munkustrap with a kind of bated expectation. “By the Everlasting.”

Munkustrap gestured towards the opening of the den. “I’m sure everyone else would like to meet him now. Would you all help introducing him to the other Jellicles?”

All the cats nodded enthusiastically, pulling the tuxedo along with them out into the sunshine, calling for any Jellicle that was in the junkyard. Rum Tum Tugger and Munkustrap shared a look; Tugger’s of bemusement, Munkustrap’s of weariness.

The gray tabby crossed his arms. “So, what shall we do with him?”

“I say we give him this time to meet everyone. Try and get all the Jellicles here soon. You tell him all the stories you know—I think he’ll like the one of you sweeping Demeter off her feet, personally.”

Munkustrap rolled his eyes. “Make a fool of yourself once and you never hear the end of it. May the Everlasting bless you to never do something embarrassing in front of your mate.”

“Someone’s gotta pin me down, first,” Tugger said casually, leaning against the wall. “And they can certainly try.”

Munkustrap looked like he was going to say more about Tugger settling down, but he shook his head and continued on with his intended conversation. “I think perhaps we should ask some of the older Jellicles if he can go with them, occasionally. Learn the ways from other sources as well. He needs to know about the life, not just the academics.”

“You just try and stop Jennyanydots and Skimbleshanks from stealing him away, I dare you,” Tugger replied, grinning. “And something tells me Bustopher Jones might like to have another tuxedo around.”

“I think you may be right, but it will all be at his own pace, of course. He’s just… so shy. He didn’t say anything until Victoria approached him, and he still hasn’t said much.”

“Victoria, huh?” Tugger grinned. “I ought to ask Coricopat and Tantomile if they see a gaggle of monochromatic kittens in the future.”

Munkustrap looked upwards in exasperation. “Please do not try and matchmake the kittens before they’re even old enough to know what you’re trying to do.”

Tugger rolled his eyes. “They’re not kittens anymore, Munks, and honestly, they’re not stupid. They’re plenty old enough that they’ve at least started noticing each other. They’ll all be there by the next ball.” Tugger elbowed his brother. “Better brush up on your stories. I’ve got a feeling that tux is going to be at total attention when you speak for the next few weeks.”

Munkustrap soon learned exactly how right Rum Tum Tugger was when it came to the new cat. The younger cats had formed an entourage around him and had caught him up on everything he’d missed out on from the stories of their kittenhood, and every instruction afterward found the little tuxedo right at Munkustrap’s feet, staring wide-eyed, his two-toned eyes practically glittering with excitement as he took it all in. Rum Tum Tugger had not sat in on a story time since he was a kitten himself, but he found himself following Munkustrap more and more into the fray of excited cats, sitting behind Munkustrap in the shadows, occasionally adding in details he remembered that his older brother left out. Seeing the tuxedo at absolute attention, and feeling the way the room electrified around him, had been putting a smile on Tugger’s face.

In the following weeks, the little tomcat began meeting everyone new that he could. Many of the Jellicles had families and did not spend a great deal of their time in the junkyard like some of the other cats, so it took him some time to learn who everyone was, but once they were introduced, the tomcat never forgot anyone. And there were those who had begun to dote on him. Gus thought the cat had a fun spirit inside of him, and he was especially delighted that the tuxedo sat at attention whenever he spoke of his time in the theater. Jennyanydots, who was as motherly as they came, had fallen immediately into the role of caretaker and disciplinarian (though he hardly ever needed it). And Bustopher Jones, that cat about town that was so regal and particular, had taken an immediate shine to the tuxedo, despite the fact that the tomcat thought it great fun to slide up behind Bustopher and grab his tail.

It was a month and a half before Tugger, who had been lazing his days in the windowsill of his human’s home and spending time with the Jellicles at night, flounced into the junkyard only to be met with the intense stare and static crackle of yellow-and-blue eyes gazing up at him.

“Mistoffelees!” he declared proudly, his paws on his hips.

Tugger raised an eyebrow. “Is that your name, Kitten?”

The tomcat, Mistoffelees, nodded once, firmly. “It’s my name.”

“Well,” Tugger said, giving Mistoffelees’ ear a fond rub. “It is a fine name for a fine Jellicle indeed. Have you told anyone else yet?”

Mistoffelees shook his head. “I wanted to tell you first.”

A fond something stirred in his chest. “I’m flattered, Kitten. Who shall we tell next? Victoria or Cassandra?”

Mistoffelees smiled brightly. Cassandra’s guardianship over the tom had been the most surprising of all the cats. She loved and cared and was a part of the family as much as the other cats, but she was generally very solitary and almost a little haughty. Despite his antics generally causing friction with the other cats, Cassandra cared for Tugger greatly. She had been fast friends with him since they’d been kittens, much to the astonishment of the entire clan, as she warmed up to very few others. And though she had intense selective tendencies towards whom she graced with her company, Cassandra had become so fond of Mistoffelees that she’d often make sure she was nearby at the end of a lesson so that she might go over it with him. She took it upon herself to teach him how to move with a grace that seemed beyond feline, and Mistoffelees had taken to it like he’d been born to it.

As for Victoria, they were glued together like they’d come from the same litter. Victoria, who was pure white, mostly deaf, and spoke very little, had found a comfort in the tuxedo, who seemed to only speak when spoken to. Less than two months together and they’d created a kind of pseudo sign language that only they seemed to know, allowing them to communicate with very few issues. They walked together through the junkyard in step, Mistoffelees introducing Victoria to the soft way that Cassandra had taught him to walk, and Victoria showing Mistoffelees how she danced.

They might have been mates one day, and for some reason, though he’d brought it up in the first place, something about the thought made Rum Tum Tugger frown. He didn’t think it was based in what Munkustrap had said, about trying to pair up the cats in their youth; Tugger didn’t think a suggestion here or there was any different than Jennyanydots proclaiming two cats were cute together. Besides, they would all sort themselves out eventually, that he knew. They always did. Though, Tugger did always take it upon himself to try and inform the kittens, as they got older, what being a mate entailed. Everlasting knew that it was the one spot in their education that Munkustrap always left blank. His older brother believed they’d get there in their own time; Tugger believed that they needed to at least know what they were getting into before they got to that point. Letting them go in blind did no one any good.

The word of Mistoffelees finally choosing his own name had spread so quickly throughout the tribe that the tomcat couldn’t even get to everyone to inform them before they were finding him and congratulating him on the choice. Personally, Tugger thought the ringleader of the information chain was Jemima; he loved his niece dearly but she could not keep a secret to save her life. Though, he supposed, it was touching to see the older cats approach Mistoffelees and greet him with his name, which made Mistoffelees beam like a lantern, almost like they were affirming his choice instead of just acknowledging it.

It had been two weeks since Mistoffelees had announced his name, and Tugger was in the junkyard before sunset. He found Mistoffelees in the shadows, sat down on stack of cardboard that sat on the edge of a clearing the young cats liked to spend time in. Jemima and Electra were caring for their coats while Tumblebrutus, Pouncival, and Plato all wrestled and tossed each other around, play-fighting as the sun dipped in the sky. Across the clearing, Victoria and Etcetera were batting an empty soda can back and forth.

“Not interested in joining the fray?” Tugger asked, sidling up behind the tuxedo. Mistoffelees shrugged as Tugger sat down next to him, lounging. “You look pensive, Kitten. What’s on your mind?”

“Did I choose right?” Mistoffelees responded, ears pulled back, tail twitching.

Tugger raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know, Kitten. Did you?”

Mistoffelees’ shoulders slumped. “I don’t… I don’t think I did.”

“What makes you think that?”

A shrug. Tugger bumped his forehead against Mistoffelees’ arm. “Come on, that’s not an answer. Why do you think you chose the wrong name?”

Mistoffelees looked down at Tugger, who was now resting his chin on his fist. “I… had a few I was thinking of. And I just… think I picked wrong.”

“You certainly wouldn’t have been the first cat to reconsider the name they’ve chosen, but I think it’s something else.” Tugger stretched himself out, laying on his back with his feet up on a crate. “Come on, Kitten. Open up. What’s wrong?”

With a sigh, Mistoffelees spoke quietly, as if afraid of his own answer. “You haven’t used it yet.”

Tugger’s ears perked up and his whiskers twitched. He grinned. “Oh? Say again?”

“You haven’t called me by my name yet.”

The grin broke into a smile. “You think I don’t like your name.”

The embarrassed expression that colored Mistoffelees’ features was almost too much to bear. “Why else wouldn’t you use it?”

Tugger put his arms behind his head, resting on them. “Remind me, what do I call Jemima?”

Mistoffelees paused. “…Queenie?”

“Do you think I don’t like Jemima’s name?”

Mistoffelees shook his head. Tugger chuckled and reached up, tapping a fingertip against the tip of the tuxedo’s nose. “It’s a form of affection, Kitten. I have lots of nicknames for lots of cats. And I’ve been calling you Kitten for quite a while now, as well, so you’ll have to cut me a touch of slack.”

The expression on the younger cat’s face informed Tugger that he was not convinced. Sitting up so they were at eye level, Tugger looked directly into the tuxedo’s two-toned eyes.

“I think your name is wonderful, Mistoffelees. I do.”

A quick crackle of electricity made Tugger’s mane stand briefly on end before it subsided with a pulse. He grinned, then felt the electricity again when Mistoffelees leaned over, rubbed his cheek against Tugger’s shoulder, then leapt up to bound into the fray, taking his place amongst the play-fighting of the toms. This time, the static did not subside and Tugger had to gently shake himself to be rid of the feeling, that fond feeling stirring in him again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our boy has his name!  
> I gave serious thought to him picking Quaxo but it just makes things a bit easier to stick with Mistoffelees.  
> As well as should be evident, I'm using the names and references from the '98 film, which means eventually there's going to be an Asparagus, son of Gus the Theatre Cat.  
> Tugger refers to Misto as "Kitten" the way that Humphrey Bogart refers to Ingrid Bergman as "Kid" in Casablanca. Think that vibe.  
> I also made a quick little scribble of [Tugger and Munkustrap looking at each other with very different thoughts on the situation.](https://madamtrashbat.tumblr.com/post/644575689954246656/i-got-an-art-tablet-recently-and-im-trying-to-get) I do hope you like it.  
> Onward and upward!


End file.
